The Big Angry Kings
by Sannepan
Summary: We all know that Prince Arthur treats his manservants with about as much respect as a lump of compost, but how serious is this really? Can Merlin's death show him the error of his ways? Merlin & Arthur friendship!bromance Collaborated with MagicbyMerlin.
1. Chapter One

**Okay, you'll all be thinking this is Sannepan talking here, right? But it's not! It's me, MagicByMerlin! She gets to post and I get to talk! Oi, stop chucking tomatoes at me. Don't shoot the messenger!**

**Anyway...this is the brand knew and spontaneous fic of madness that Sannepan and I have been working on lately. We've put our "signatures", "initials", or "what-ever-you-want-to-call-thems" at the top of each section, showing who wrote what (MBM for me and SNP for Sannepan). I suppose this is so we can be blamed according to our actions... *subsides into a fit of violent coughing***

**So, here it is, The Big Angry Kings (my idea by the way)(Sannepan: Oi! It was my idea as well! Grrrr)! :D Enjoy! Oh, and this little poem thingy below is also something I wrote (because I had a short lived moment of madness).**

_**Big angry king,**_

_**Sits on his throne, **_

_**Bashes poor Merlin; **_

_**Worthy of the sword in the stone?**_

* * *

_MBM_

Arthur Pendragon was crying. This is itself was strange, for the prince of Camelot never cried. It would be quite frowned upon by his superiors if he were seen to be doing this in public. However, he was not in public, but inside his chambers. The air was thick and heavy; it was pushing him to the ground; his grief was overwhelming. And it certainly had nothing to do with the fact his trusted manservant was lying on the floor, no longer a breath in his small, cold and tiny body. Except it had everything to do with that fact.

Hands gripping the front of Arthur's jacket to keep himself upright, Merlin had leaned in close, his eyes filled with earnest as he parted with his last words.

"Take care of yourself…and make sure…make sure…"

"What?" Arthur's voice had been hysterical, the servant dying in his arms. "What? What is it, Merlin?"

"Make sure…you get your…"

"What is it, Merlin? _What is it?_"

"Make sure that you get your daily nutritional man-hugs…"

And then he slipped away from him and ceased to breath, leaving the prince a sobbing wreck on the floor. And there he still was, a sorry sight, and one which could not believe that the raven-haired boy was dead. And so Arthur began to crawl across the room. He reached Merlin's side, sobbing, and shook him gently. Merlin was silent, his glassy eyes staring up towards the ceiling, almost looking through the prince. They looked so harsh in the dwindling light, like daggers shooting up to the sky.

"Merlin, please don't be dead…" Arthur shook the lifeless body once more. He chose to ignore the awful sorrow in those haunted eyes. When Merlin's broken body did not respond to him, he shook him harder, tears streaming down his face. "MERLIN, PLEASE!!!"

But Merlin could not hear him. And Arthur knew why: the boy, the servant, the _friend_, who had been by his side for so many adventures, really was gone, and gone somewhere where he could not follow. And it hurt.

The door creaked open; the king of Camelot stepped in. He looked sourly around the room for a moment, and then his eyes fell upon his son. Arthur was a mess, great sobs wracking his body, and in his arms he cradled a vaguely familiar figure who Uther recognized after a moment to be Merlin, Arthur's manservant.

Squaring his shoulders, the king hardened his face and spoke in a steely voice.

"I iz a big angry king and I have come to make my son's life a misery!"

But Arthur did not respond. Instead, he took hold of Merlin's hand, clasping it inside his own.

"Merlin, Merlin, please wake up…please wake up, you stupid, _stupid_ idiot…"

Uther became disgruntled. He was not used to being ignored, and decided he did not like it in the slightest. Straightening his back, he started again.

"I iz a big angry –!"

"OH, SHUT UP!!!"

Uther blanched. Never before had he been spoken to in such a manner as this, and his expression became as that of granite. The scowl he now possessed could have been great creators dug into his face for all the outside world knew.

But Arthur didn't care. He hadn't even noticed. He was once again cradling Merlin's tiny body in his arms, and he was shivering, completely consumed in misery. It washed over his head like a wave and smothered him; he couldn't breath, and he choked into Merlin's soft black hair. Then he whispered to his servant quietly under his breath.

"Oh, Merlin…its all my fault…and I never told you how much I cared…"

Unfortunately for him, his father overheard him, and the great furrowed scowl deepened.

"You cannot behave in this ridiculous way!" he bellowed. "It's only a servant!"

"His name is MERLIN!" Arthur threw back, anger boiling up inside him at the lack of sympathy and respect his father was showing.

A huge grin spread over Uther's face. He did so enjoy making his son angry. It was fun; it made him happy, and he liked it. Arthur could see right through him, and this only made him angrier.

"You get out of my room!"

"No." The king looked bored.

"Excuse me…?" Arthur hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

"I said NOOO!" Uther lent forward, tongue stuck out.

"YOU…YOU…GET OUT!!!" Arthur screeched.

"Why?"

"You cannot lay your eyes on him!"

"On that servant? I wouldn't want to!"

"OUT! OUT! OUT! OUT!" Arthur kicked him, several slaps hits and punches accompanying the said kick.

"Oi, watch it! I will disinherit you!" Uther warned, rubbing his backside.

"Like I care!" Arthur spat.

"Whatever…" The king ambled away.

Arthur sunk to the floor, in tatters. He dragged himself back to Merlin; it was somehow a comfort to be near his manservant.

"Oh, Merlin, what should I do now?" Arthur rocked him back and forth, hot wet tears trailing down his face. Merlin was silent. "What am I to do without you, my friend, my very best and truest friend?" He could barely belive the words were coming out of his mouth. And yet they still tumbled freely from his lips.

At that moment, Gwen walked in. Arthur growled at her. And Gwen walked out again.

"I won't let anyone take you away from me, Merlin, you hear me?" Arthur whispered to his friend, hugging Merlin to his chest. "I don't care if they starve me to death, they can't take me away from you…"

"Awww…"

* * *

_SNP_

Arthur looked up. The voice had not been his own. But nor could it have been Merlin's: his servant was still lying lifeless in his arms. But the facts were against him, for Merlin _had_ spoken. And the two feet standing beside him resembled Merlin's pretty much. They even wore the same shoes; the legs wore the same trousers, belt, jacket, scarf and…

"Merlin?" He swallowed and blinked a few times. "Who? What? YOU'RE ALIVE!"

The prince jumped up from the floor, forgetting the limp body still in his arms. With a dull thump, a horrible sound in the silence, it fell back to the floor.

Arthur couldn't believe Merlin was alive and kicking, and just a few feet away! He was about to give his servant the biggest, bestest man-hug ever, when Merlin suddenly spoke.

"Not really," he said, as he rubbed the back of his neck. He could tell this baffled Arthur a bit. The prince's let his arms, which were ready for the man-hug, drop to his sides.

"Then why are you talking to me?" Arthur frowned. He was pretty sure Merlin was alive again; the boy spoke, breathed, everything a living person would do. Suddenly the baffled feeling disappeared, leaving him behind with the sorrow he had felt. He just knew this was too good to be true. Merlin, his friend, had come back, but was going to leave him again. The tears were about to run over his face once more.

"DON'T LEAVE ME!!!" Arthur knees buckled, and it now appeared like he was begging Merlin to stay. He pouted. Merlin chuckled and decided to let Arthur in on his secret.

"I am the Ghost of Manservant's Past," he said darkly.

"You aren't," Arthur said, coming to his feet again.

"I am!"

"You aren't!"

"I am too!" And he walked through Arthur. Merlin himself didn't feel anything of it, but Arthur gasped for air. It was like someone had opened a door and a cold, icy wind had just blown right through him, chilling him to the bone. At the same time, it felt like someone had lit a fire underneath his feet; and within seconds, it had spread to the top of his head and extinguished on it's own again. Not pleasant.

"Eeegh! Don't _ever _do that again!"

"Sorry. Second argument. Look," Merlin said, as he pointed to the dead body on the floor. It was still there, staring at the ceiling. Arthur blinked again. There were two Merlins present in the room, one dead one and the other…different. But he had to be a ghost.

"Anyway, I have come here to take you through all of your old menservants."

"Why?"

"So you can see how badly you have treated them," Merlin said. "Let's go."

"Umm…let's not…" Arthur trailed off, due to a very, very scary look on Merlin's face. If it had made a sound, it would have been a nasty growl. "Okay, okay, where to?"

"We shall start at the beginning," Merlin said enigmatically.


	2. Chapter Two

**Okay, I think MagicbyMerlin is way to excited about her new Ipod to say anything, and by the way, it is my turn! ****So here's the new chapter, filled with lots of sillyness for you to enjoy! And review.**

Ah, while you are at it, go and read (and review) "_Happy Go Lucky" _by MagicbyMerlin! Sooo coooool... 3  
*is not making any adverisment ^^"*

_MBM_

There was a blinding flash. Arthur was quite sure he would have fallen to the floor had there still been one. But there wasn't; it had disappeared. Now it came to it, _everything_ seemed to have disappeared. Instead, there was a swirling grey mist. Arthur put out his hand; he could almost _feel_ the smoke. It curled around his hand, up his arm, twisting itself around his body. He began to feel dizzy; the smoke was making him feel light-headed. Merlin was nowhere to be seen; the fog made sure that he could see nothing. The world was slipping away; he had the impression he was flying.

Suddenly, with a thump, he landed on solid ground. He staggered, feeling nauseous, and clutched his stomach. Merlin was a little way off to his side, looking quite unharmed.

"Don't ever," Arthur wheezed, doubled over, "do that again…"

Merlin merely shrugged, looking nonchalant.

"See him?" he said, pointing.

Arthur looked in the direction he was designating. They seemed to be in his chambers, but his chambers as they had looked many years ago. This confused him. Had they travelled in time? In the corner of the room was crouched a boy, probably around sixteen, and he was washing socks.

"Do you remember him?" Merlin asked.

"No…" Arthur said indifferently. He did not recognize the boy, whoever he was.

Merlin shook his head, disappointed.

"That's Henry," he said. "Remember him now?"

"Err…" Arthur still had no memory of him.

Merlin jabbed him hard in the ribs with a long finger.

"You're worse than I thought!"

"Oi!" Arthur reprimanded, rubbing his side, a hurt expression on his face. "Anyway, look at him! He's spilling soap all over the place!"

"Oh, woe is me…" Henry suddenly spoke up, his voice dragged out and dramatic as he whined quietly to himself, "…such a hard life…stupid socks…they smell so bad…woe is me…"

"Humph. They're not that bad," Arthur muttered.

"I can tell you from experience that they are," Merlin replied.

"Whatever." Arthur avoided eye contact.

"See him suffering…" Merlin went on in earnest, throwing his arm out at the servant as if to prove his point further.

Henry pulled a face, seeing he had sock fluff all over his soapy wet fingers.

"Eww, this is so disgusting. Look at me suffer."

"It could be worse…" Arthur said, looking surly.

"You think so?" Merlin asked, gesturing to Henry, who, quite suddenly, cried out in horror and threw one of the socks into the corner. The sock walked away of its own accord. Arthur wrinkled his nose, watching it edge its way under his bed to fester away there forever until it became mulch.

"So? It's his job!" he said to Merlin angrily.

"Suff-er-ing…" Merlin responded.

"I see no suffering."

Merlin just sighed.

"So is that one of my former menservants?" Arthur asked.

"You really don't remember, do you?"

"Should I? It's a servant!"

"So was I!" Merlin cried.

"But –"

Arthur was cut off by the yelps of pain emitted by Henry, whose ankle was suddenly being nommed by the sock, which seemed to have taken a fancy to it.

"Oh, it's all good for him," Arthur said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Henry leapt to his feet, the sock still firmly attached to his ankle, and began to hop around, desperately trying to extract the offending item of clothing from his foot. Unfortunately for him, the window was open. He did not see it, and the next thing he knew, he had tripped over the bucket of soapy water and flown head first out of the window. Merlin and Arthur listen to his screams die away. And then –

_SPLISH_.

"Oh, so that's how he disappeared!" Arthur said in realization. "I did wonder, y'know."

Merlin stared at him incredulously, and said, "Would you like to see your other menservants…?"

"Yeah, sure, it'll be a laugh," Arthur replied, smirking as he put his hands behind his head in an offhand-ish manner. "I like to see them suffer."

Merlin's eyes widened, horrified by his words.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"Whoa, you really are a prat…"

"Right, you've asked for this…" Arthur grabbed Merlin's scarf from off his neck. Horrified, Merlin tried to snatch it back, but Arthur merely walked over to the fire burning in the hearth. He swayed it deviously back and forth in his hand, and each time the scarf swung a little closer to the tongues of flame.

"You wouldn't dare…" Merlin hissed.

"Try me." Arthur swung the beloved neckerchief again. Merlin bit his lip and tried to resist the urge to dash over and reclaim it, but Arthur could see by the sweat beginning to appear on his forehead that he was having trouble in doing so.

Eventually, Merlin broke down.

"Okay, I give in! Please don't!"

"Did you really think I was going to destroy it?" Arthur asked, taking the neckerchief away from the flames and giving it a cuddle. "Never…"

"Annoying, and yet sweet at the same time…" Merlin muttered. "Back to the point…next servant. Guess who?"

"No idea."

"Jonathan."

"Oh, I remember him!" Arthur grinned. "Curly haired chap, right?"

"Correct," Merlin said, nodding. "This was several years ago, when you were a child."

"What? No!" Arthur cried in great distress. "No! You are _not_ going to see me as a toddler!"

"Shut up, we're going."

"But –" Arthur began, but the blinding flash came again, and it left him with an imprint of the room on his eyes. Again, the smoke curled around him, and again he was flying…and then he was on solid ground.

Involuntarily, he screamed. Merlin stared at him. Arthur cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks colouring. Merlin turned away, not looking in the least impressed.

Fighting back the desire to kick Merlin in the face, Arthur, too, looked where Merlin was now facing. A small boy – probably no more than three or four – was sitting on the floor; his hair was blonde and his eyes were blue, and before him was lined up an army of toy soldiers.

"Aww, you were actually cute!" Merlin said, grinning.

"Watch it." Arthur punched his arm half-heartedly.

"I wanna play!" the baby Arthur cried.

"No, Arthur, it's time for bed."

As he spoke, Arthur caught sight of the figure standing unnoticed just behind his field of vision. He did indeed have curly hair, and he was tall and thin, although not in the same way as Merlin.

"I don't wanna go to bed!" baby Arthur yelled.

"You have to, sire." Jonathan looked as though he were biting back his anger and annoyance with great difficulty. Perhaps he had been at this for some time…

Baby Arthur pouted. He looked uncannily like the adult Arthur as he did this, and Merlin sniggered. Arthur narrowed his eyes at him, and Merlin quickly reverted his amusement into a stern silence, although Arthur was quite certain he was fighting back the urge to smile.

"Sire, put away those toys!" Jonathan demanded.

"No!" Baby Arthur promptly kicked Jonathan hard in the shins and ran out of his room and down the corridor, squealing hysterically with delight all the way. Merlin clapped his hands over his ears, grimacing.

"That squeal alone is enough to drive someone mad…" he said to Arthur above the racket.

"Oi, you just said I was cute!"

"Yeah, but how would that look if some slash-obsessed fangirl read this?"

"Ah, you have a point there."

"I should make amends, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, you should."

"You're a horrible prat and I hate you."

"Yeah, you just _had_ to take it one step further, didn't you?"

"Well, naturally," Merlin answered, a huge grin on his face. "But this was not all…"

* * *

_SNP_

"Next servant?" Arthur wanted to get out of here – or wherever here was – as quickly as possible. Merlin was way too happy to see baby Arthur, but when the ghost said they were going to stay with the same manservant, Arthur sighed. "Have I not been ashamed enough?"

"Never."

There was another flash. When the light evaporated, they were still standing in the same room, and judging by the sun outside, it could not have been much later in the day. Jonathan had managed to fetch baby Arthur from under the bed, and placed him in a chair next to a table. On the table was a plate, although the contents was scattered all over the table.

"Oh, the embarrassment!" Arthur groaned, as Jonathan lifted up a spoon and scooped some of the vegetables onto it.

"Here comes the horsey!" Jonathan said in a comical, high voice, lifting the spoon up to baby Arthur's face, acting like it was a horse ready to enter the stables. Grown-up Arthur hid his blushing face behind his hands as little Arthur took a bite. After chewing on the vegetables for no more than a second, he spat it back out again. Jonathan gave baby Arthur an angry look, trying to wipe the goo of his knee back onto the plate. Baby Arthur just giggled.

Merlin shook his head at the prince standing next to him.

"Well, sor-ry if it was cabbage! I hate the stuff!" Arthur stated, pointing at the plate.

"Why did you have to do that for?" Jonathan had managed to get rid of the cabbage-y goo as much as he could, but there was still a stain left.

"Well, sow-ry if it was cabbage! I hate the stuff!" baby Arthur gave as explanation, still giggling.

"Not changed much, have you?" Merlin said, his voice quiet.

"Don't be ridiculous! Of course I have!" Arthur said swiftly. When Merlin raised an eyebrow, Arthur added, "I have muscle!"

Merlin sighed.

"Sire, you must eat your vegetables!" Jonathan tried.

"Why?"

"Because the king will _accidentally_ have the executioner slip on me while he's carrying an axe…" Jonathan muttered, more to himself than the misbehaving toddler before him. As young as little Arthur was, however, he had understood the meaning of the utterance. Gleefully, he started to hop up and down in his seat, almost tipping the chair over.

"BLOOD!!! BLOOD!!! BLOOD!!!" he squealed, letting his little fists hit the table. Jonathan cradled his head in his hands, panicking, not sure what to do next.

"I hate my life…"

Merlin nodded and stared at his feet.

"I know how he feels…"

Little Arthur kept screaming the same word, over and over; Jonathan wasn't able to quiet him down. Grown Arthur had still heard what Merlin said.

"What? You don't mean that…do you?" he asked.

"Yes, I do." Merlin looked away, a grim expression on his face.

"You don't really…hate your life, do you?"

"Well, some days are really tough. Mucking out the stables, cleaning your room, cleaning your socks…"

Baby Arthur stopped screaming.

"…polishing your armour, cleaning your shoes, your sword, your bed…"

"Yeah! Yeah, I get it!" Arthur sighed.

"Really?" Merlin turned back to him, looking hopeful.

"Did you muck out my stables yesterday, because I came in…"

"Arthur!" Merlin punched Arthur on the shoulder.

"What? Did you…?"

"No!"

"_WELL, WHY THE BLAZES NOT?_"

"I was busy dying, remember?"

"Oh, shut up, you idiot…" Arthur muttered. He didn't like to be remembered of that moment, the pain he had felt; he still felt it inside of him. He knew the ghost of Merlin would not – perhaps could not – stay with him forever. He was going to leave him. Prince Arthur was going to be alone.

"See!" Merlin raised his arms up in the air, looking annoyed more than anything. "You _can_ be harsh!"

"That wasn't harsh…" Arthur hissed. Merlin looked disgusted by him, and Arthur suddenly felt a small twinge of guild, though he quickly hid it.

Jonathan was still trying to feed baby Arthur, even though most of the plate's contents had ended up on the floor. Little fists kept hitting the table in anger: baby Arthur was not going to give in!

And to make matters worse, somebody knocked at the door. Jonathan couldn't risk take an eye off Arthur, and asked the man to come in on his own. The man entered Arthur's room: it was the executioner, and he was carrying his axe.

The Arthur standing beside Merlin stared at Jonathan's face, which was frighteningly easy to read. Sweat was pouring down the man's forehead, his teeth were shattering and he kept blinking his eyes.

"Oh…there are banana skins everywhere…" he muttered to himself under his breath, frantically looking here and there at invisible banana skins. "The executioner is going to slip…" He was biting his fingernails in agitation now, and forgot to watch baby Arthur, who slipped out of his seat and snuck up to the black hooded man.

The executioner did not speak a word; his presence was always enough to silence the crowd: they never asked any questions. But he did make a low growl in the depths of his throat when baby Arthur gave him a little push, causing him to him loose his balance, and in the meantime making him slip on one of the 'banana skins'.

Jonathan saw the axe come down in slow motion, thinking something couldn't move that slow but in the same time that fast. After a weird slicing sound, Jonathan couldn't think anything at all. The axe and his head rolled over the floor, and baby Arthur started to yell, "BLOOD!!! BLOOD!!!" again.

Another servant ran into the room, attracted by Arthur's screaming. But the boy had managed to climb into the seat again, and was looking as innocent as could be.  
"It wasn't me!" he claimed. "His head – it just popped off! I'm sure it was magic!"  
The servant seemed fooled by the argument, but Merlin, standing beside Arthur, wasn't in the slightest. He had that look on his face again, the evil one that Arthur couldn't copy, but he knew pretty well what it meant.

"It was magic, wasn't it?" Arthur tried carefully.

"Next – servant," Merlin said through gritted teeth, eyes steely.


	3. Chapter Three

**And now for the scary part... Tumtumtuuuuum!  
Have fun! And thanks for all of the reviews! I didn't have time to reply to them, sorry about that, but they are always welcome!**

_MBM_

Flash. Smoke. Thump. Arthur's feet landed on grass. He was getting used to the strange sensation now, and it didn't take him long to recover his bearings. They were outside; the sun was shinning, the birds were singing, there was a light breeze. Arthur looked around. It was unmistakably the training grounds. How many times had he practiced here on his various servants after all? Too many times to count, he would wager.

He could also see himself, and he was pleased it was him at an older age. He didn't think he would have been able to bear it if Merlin saw him as a newly born baby, crying and screaming as though he had some strange wish to wake the dead. Along with himself, was another boy. He looked average. And that was all Arthur could describe him as. He had a boring face.

"Oh, I know him…he's…he's…" Arthur tried, raking through his memories in search of the correct one. "Okay, I don't know him. Who's he?"

"David," Merlin said.

David was fumbling around with the catch fastening up his armour. He seemed to be clumsy, though not a patch on Merlin. If he had been Merlin, he probably wouldn't have made his way out of the castle yet. The other Arthur was swinging his sword – his signature move. This had to be a training session.

"David…doesn't ring any bells…" Arthur said to Merlin, shaking his head, nonplussed.

"Arthur, this was only two years ago!" Merlin spluttered, apparently appalled. "You ought to be able to remember at least _some_ of your servants!"

"Well, I don't." Arthur shrugged.

"What, and that's what I'll become?" Merlin demanded, and was that hurt in his eyes…? "Just another servant? A nobody! I thought a long time ago that we might have once become friends. Seems I was wrong." He turned away, and his face might have been hidden, but Arthur knew in his heart of hearts that it was disappointment displayed in his features now. And maybe he was staring to feel a little bit, just a _little bit_ guilty.

With a strange, suffocating feeling lying heavy inside his throat like a stone, he turned back to face the scene before him. The swings of his other self's sword were becoming more frequent, faster, and Arthur knew that he was about to make a move any second. Behind him, David stood ready to defend. But why did the other Arthur look so angry? Why was there an ugly mask of hate covering his face? Merlin had brought him here for a purpose, but none of it made sense.

Suddenly, the other Arthur attacked. David countered haphazardly with his shield, and the sword came crashing down on it. The shield shook; David stumbled back; the blow had been heavy. Arthur took it all in his stride, and again and again he came crashing down on the shield, hammering the servant back, further and further.

"So…" Arthur could hear his past self hiss through gritted teeth, his face inches from his terrified servant, "you think you can –" he battered David back more, never pausing or hesitating to allow the servant reprieve, "– give me…a cold bath…do you?"

"It was a mere accident, sire, I assure you!" David cried, his legs buckling under the weight of each blow.

"Save your excuses for someone who might care."

"Please, no! You're going to –"

And all in a split second Arthur saw the swords, maces, axes and other weapons lent up against the tree. His past self was driving David back relentlessly, not showing his unwilling opponent a hint of mercy: they were heading dead towards the tree. An axe was hung from a small hook driven into the trunk, and as David was forced back against it, the hook came loose, and the axe fell.

It was as if time had slowed down, and Arthur closed his eyes. He knew what would come next and did not want to see it. There was a metallic echo of sound as the axe cut through the air; and then there came a sharp, pain filled squeak, and a thump as something hit the ground. Tentatively, Arthur opened his eyes. David was slumped against the tree, dead. And Arthur was standing above him, his face void of all emotions, except for a terrible, stony indifference. It made the real Arthur sick to look at. Had this really been him?

And then the other Arthur spoke, his voice as hard as his face.

"I hate cold baths."

Arthur suddenly became acutely aware of eyes boring into him. He turned and faced Merlin.

"D-did I really kill him?" he asked. "I don't remember."

"You don't want to remember," Merlin replied, and his eyes were horribly understanding, seeing right through him, into his very soul.

"But how…?" he said, hating those all-knowing blue orbs.

"You pushed it away," Merlin said, "like you will my memory…"

"Never…" Arthur whisper: his throat would allow him little else as he choked on his words. "I will never forget you."

Merlin looked at him sadly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Arthur cried in earnest. "I'm sure!"

Merlin looked at him for a moment longer, and then the flash came again. And they were standing in a hall. But it was dark, dank, _murky_. The tapestries hanging from the falls and from the ceiling looked dull, adorned in cobwebs; and on them was made images of dead men, those who still lived and fought above the bodies cut down where they stood. Arthur took his eyes from them and looked around the rest of the room. Posted by the doors were guards; they wore the Pendragon crest and yet there was nothing grand about the golden dragon. Here and there were a few scattered courtiers, but they looked sad, sorrowful, like they had given up hope a long, long time ago. The place looked as though it had never been loved.

"Where are we?" Arthur hissed in under tones to Merlin. He felt wary of breaking the silence even to that extent.

"In the future," Merlin answered. "Do you see him?"

Arthur looked in the direction Merlin was allocating, towards what he guessed was the throne. The windows were swathed in a thick sheet of dust, and little light could find passage through it, choked by the darkness, but Arthur could still make out a figure sitting upon the throne. He looked as though in deep thought, though Arthur had the impression that this man always looked like that: almost like he was conspiring about something. He seemed wary, like a coiled viper, ready to strike at any second.

Although he could not see this man's face, Arthur had taken a disliking to him, and he leaned over to Merlin again.

"Who is that?"

"That, Arthur," said Merlin, "is you."

Arthur stared at him. Surely he had to be mistaken. It wasn't possible! He would never have allowed the castle to fall under such a state of disrepair.

"But how can that –?" he began, but Merlin cut him off.

"You do not need to talk," he said. "Stay silent and listen."

Arthur turned back to face the room, a mixture of fear and dread flooding into him. Was the future really going to be like this? Was there nothing he could do to stop it? Maybe it was possible it was just a trick. But whether it was or not, he still had to endure it at the present.

Frightened by these prospects, he raked the rest of the hall, wondering if there was something else he was supposed to see. His eyes fell upon the outline of a man somewhere in the shadows of a pillar. He looked vaguely familiar somehow, like someone he might have seen wandering the corridors of the castle at some point or other. Arthur narrowed his eyes, willing them to become accustomed to the gloom; curious to know whom it was who stood so quietly in the corner. And suddenly he knew.

Merlin had always been thin, his clothes always hanging off him as though they were wet, and his cheekbones defined, his face angular. And even though they peeked out from behind an untidy black hairline, his blue eyes always sparkled as though it was a joy to just be alive.

But this Merlin looked entirely different.

His clothes had changed; he wore a darker material, and they fitted him better, though this was not because he had gained weight. He was thin – so, so thin: he was almost curling in on himself. His collarbones protruded unnaturally from his pale chest, which was just visible from the loose fit of his shirt's neck. His skin was all but white, ghostly and gaunt in the dim light. But his face. His face is what grabbed Arthur's attention. The Merlin he knew nearly always had something to smile about, and that stupid, goofy grin would appear so often upon his features. In fact, Arthur would say it was almost infectious in a way: it made you want to smile back. But this Merlin looked as though he had not smiled for several years. Although his face was blank, his eyes were spilling over with emotion: a bitter abandonment, like he was an unloved novelty cast out to die.

Arthur looked to the Merlin beside him. The contract in the two was astonishing, but he shook that aside, wanting to ask a question of him. But before he opened his mouth, he knew that he would not receive an answer; Merlin's expression told him as much. And he looked away again, keeping his eyes on the ground.

"YOU, SERVANT!!! KNEEL!!!"

Arthur jumped and was immediately angry with himself. Clear and concise, the king's voice rang out through the courtroom. Everybody snapped to attention. And only then did Arthur see the small servant boy kneeled to the ground before the throne. He was trembling, and at the king's voice he laid himself flat to the floor.

"You have been found guilty of using enchantments and magic, the penalty for which is certain death," said the king, his face overshadowed in darkness as he tightened his grip of fear over the servant. "Do you deny the charges?"

The servant was quivering, sobbing, and nothing coherent came from his lips. The king seemed to decide he had pleaded guilty, and straightened in his seat. Arthur could see a horrible smile stretch across his face. _His_ face. _HIS_. He was doing this. And it made him feel sick.

"I've turned into my father…" he whispered.

Beside him, Merlin inclined his head to look resolutely at the floor.

"Then I have no other option but to sentence you to death," said the king, and though his words were sympathetic in some small way, his expression and tone showed otherwise. "Guards, take this piece of filth away." He spat on the ground beside the throne.

As the guards moves forward, the man's whimpering sobs falling upon deaf ears, the Merlin away in the corner began to creep tentatively towards the throne. Arthur willed him to keep away, not to risk it, but Merlin continued to edge forward until he was stood but a little way from the throne. The king rose, although not on Merlin's account, and went to a small table, taking a goblet and filling it with wine from a pitcher. Swallowing, Merlin followed him, his caution evident in the slowness of his steps.

"Sire," he spoke after a moment, his voice cracked with lack of use, "this man – this man…he is not a threat to the kingdom, my lord."

The king slowly turned, a look of quiet and dangerous, unpredictable fury written across his face. Though Merlin looked scared, like a terrified rabbit caught in the headlights, he kept his eyes fixed upon the king.

"I'm sorry…" the future Arthur said, "I must have misheard you. Repeat yourself."

Arthur could tell this was more a threat than anything: the king was daring Merlin to make a stand. And he sincerely hoped that Merlin was smart enough to see it, for his own sake. But whether out of foolishness or downright bravery, Merlin spoke up once more…


	4. Chapter Four

_MBM_

"This man has done nothing wrong, sire," Merlin said. "You have no proof that these accusations are genuine!"

"SILENCE!" the king screeched. "SILENCE OR I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD AS WELL!"

"My lord," Merlin soldiered on, sweat beginning to bead down his forehead, "you are not doing the right thing! _You are wrong to sentence him to death!_"

"Get down, dog!" The king raised a hand and smashed his fist hard against Merlin's face, sending him to the ground. Blood dripping from his mouth, Merlin crawled back frantically as Arthur advanced upon him, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up.

"I am never wrong…" he hissed into the servant's terrified face. "_NEVER!_" And he flung Merlin aside into the shadows of the hall.

For a moment, the real Arthur stood where he was, too stunned to move. He felt as though he had witnessed something so wrong that no one ought to have seen it: a man turning against his friend. And it was wrong, _so_ wrong.

In horror, he ran as fast as he could to the pillar against which the future Merlin was slumped, a horrible purplish bruise spreading itself across the left side of his face. But there was some else wrong, too. His jaw was offset, hanging awkwardly.

"Please, no…"

But it was what Arthur feared. It was broken. Even though he was crouched directly in front of the man, Merlin seemed not to see him. His tiny body began to shake, great sobs wracking the skinny frame, and tears were trickling from his eyes and steaming down his face. He was a broken man, and in a way he portrayed what the rest of the kingdom was suffering…dejection. He lived in fear, fear of what Arthur, king of Camelot might do. And so did they.

Once upon a time, this might have been a joke – the whole ghost-come-back-to-show-him-the-past-and-future thing. But not any more. This was real. It _would_ happen if he did nothing to stop it. Is this what he would become, what his _kingdom_ would become if he did not listen and learn from Merlin? Merlin, who _was_ his friend, whether he liked it or not; Merlin, who _did_ speak the truth, whether it hurt him or not; Merlin, who he _could_ depend on throughout anything, whether he believed it or not.

The ghost-Merlin came up behind him, almost as if it knew his thoughts; and he stood up and turned around, facing him.

"How can I stop this?" he asked.

"It is not my destiny to give you the answer you seek," replied Merlin. "This you must figure out for yourself." And he was beginning to fade; the room was beginning to fade; _everything_ was disappearing into a mist of vapour.

"Merlin! No! Don't leave me! I can't do this without you! _Merlin!_"

"You will be fine," the fading figure reassured, smiling lightly.

"No! Please come back! NO!"

But the figure was gone.

"No…no…it's not right…have to do something…" The world was slipping away, sand through his fingers. He swayed. "Got to stop this from happened…have to do something…"

He tossed and he turned; the courtroom was gone. He wasn't sure where he was. His arms failed about, and he shouted more frantically.

"I can't let it happen! No! No!"

"Arthur!"

But he didn't hear the voice trying to pull his through the sea of broken images.

"No! No! MERLIN!"

"Arthur, _wake up_!"

"No! No!"

"Dammit, Arthur! Wake up, you dozy bugger!"

But wait…didn't he know that voice? Wasn't that…

"Merlin?"

"Yes, it's me!" Merlin cried, and he was in the castle, in his room, in his very own bed, and everything was just how it had been before. "Now get up, will you!"

Arthur sat up, mouth slightly agape. He was home. That was weird. What had happened? How had he got into bed? Who had changed him into his nightclothes? And why was Merlin not dead? Because Merlin wasn't dead, not in the slightest bit dead. He was instead rummaging around in the wardrobe in the corner, looking somewhat disgruntled.

Arthur stared at him.

"Uhh…what happened?" he asked.

"Happened?" Merlin repeated, just as a shirt fell out of the wardrobe, wrapping itself around his head. He pulled it off and continued, "Oh, nothing happened!

"But –"

"But that's what the problem was!" Merlin went on, a little too loudly. "You wouldn't get up! Gwen and I, the former of whom gave up a few shout _hours_ ago, have been trying to wake you since dawn!"

"I…I was dreaming?" Arthur couldn't believe it.

"To heck you were! Though no dream for me, was it? I was meant to be getting on with this ages ago! A right thoughtful prat you are!"

* * *

_SNP_

Arthur just sat in his bed, slowly blinking his eyes, trying to wrap his mind around what had happened.

"And do you how much you snore?" Merlin continued, throwing clothes left and right over his shoulder. "It's impossible for a human being to snore that loud!"

Arthur, completely incredulous, stared at him furthermore.

"Now get out of that bed so I can clean the sheets!" Merlin demanded. "I'm never going to finish all my chores before sunset…" He picked up the pile he had thrown on the floor and chucked it at Arthur's head. "Don't look at me like that! Put some clothes on!"

But Arthur couldn't help staring at Merlin, even though his head was covered a pair of trousers and a shirt. His manservant…his friend, alive and angry at him.

"I'm sorry…" Arthur whispered, his voice unsteady. "For all the bad things that happened…"

Merlin, now trying to clean the fireplace, turned to look at Arthur.

"Forgive me for being the prat that I sometimes am," the prince continued.

"Which is most of the time…." Merlin agreed nonchalantly.

"Probably…" Arthur started to fidget with the seam of his sheet. "I am sorry, though."

"Hmm…" Merlin shrugged, looking unimpressed. His face was already black from the coal and ashes from the fireplace he was trying to clean, and his clothes had lost all recognizable colour.

He took up a brush and crawled half into the hearthside again. He never noticed Arthur climbing out of the bed. He never saw the prince sneaking up to him. He was still angry with Arthur when he suddenly felt two arms fold around his shoulders, pulling him out of the ashes.

"You're alive…" Arthur muttered softly as he buried his face in Merlin's neck.

"Errr…" Merlin was completely taken by surprise and didn't know what to do. The future king of Camelot was hanging around his neck, weeping softly and speaking nonsense. Why would Arthur say such things? Merlin never died…did he?

He couldn't stand to see Arthur like this. Proud, fearless prince Arthur, so…lost. So Merlin put his own arms around Arthur, trying to ease his pain.

Arthur gripped the back of Merlin's shirt, holding it tightly to never let go. His dream – or whatever it had been – had shown him his past and his future. A ghost had showed him his real, horrible self and what he was to become if he continued acting like the prat he had been for the last couple of years. Or all of his years, actually.  
Merlin had opened Arthur's ignorant eyes and the prince was going to make sure he was never going to be the man he had seen in his dream. Not ever.

Merlin patted Arthur on the back, waiting for him to let go, which he didn't. The grip just got tighter as Merlin backed up a bit.

"Don't ever die; don't ever leave me…" the prince mumbled, the tears on his face causing Merlin's shoulder to become damp.

"Arthur, far be it for me to break all this up, you are kind of crushing me…"

Wiping his tears away, feeling a little stupid, Arthur finally relinquished his grip. Merlin took a deep breath, probably to both fill his lungs and calm his frayed nerve. Being hugged by Arthur was not a normal everyday occurrence. He was about to edge awkwardly away, when the prince suddenly stopped him. Placing a hand on each of his servant's shoulders, Arthur looked him deeply in the eye.

"I will never, ever, _ever_ let your head get chopped off."

Merlin blinked.

"Care to elaborate?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. Arthur looked at his feet for a moment and swallowed.

"I had a…dream…just now. You died."

"Does that have some deeper meaning? Killing me off in your slee –"

"_Mer_lin! Let me speak!"

"Sorry…"

"So you died and turned into a ghost. You took me to the past and showed me my old servants." Arthur paused for a moment, trying to think what to say next. "I treated them awfully, Merlin, I killed them all…" He wiped away another tear. "And I didn't care. I moved on."

Merlin bit his lip, having no idea what to say.

"And then you took me to the future," Arthur went on, "showed me myself as the king of Camelot. You were there, too. Not dead – yet – but you were close to dying. You looked terrible, Merlin! Nothing but skin and bones, and it was all my fault!" Tears were streaming down his cheeks again, but he didn't wipe them away. "I don't want that! I don't want to yell at you and hit you! I don't…I…I am not going be that kind of king!"

He started to sob quietly again, still shaking his head. Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders, making shushing sounds in his ear.

"You will not be that man, Arthur, I know you wont."

"How can you be sure?" Arthur cried, trying to pull away, but Merlin kept hold of him.

"Because I know you! You would never do anything to harm me. I would bet my scarf on it…"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Your scarf?"

"Yes."

"That rag?"

"Watch it…" Merlin grinned.

* * *

**Sorry it took so long to put up the next chapter for you guys. I know some of you have been waiting.  
Anywayz, what did you think?!?! Me and MBM need reviews... and fast! Or Sheridan* will come to haunt us... :-|  
I know he will!**

*read Happy Go Lucky by MagicbyMerlin... *iz not making ads again*


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